#Germany

I love a good castle. It wasn’t until I got a really good look at the Italian countryside that I realized Europe is literally littered with castles. In Umbria especially they pop up every mile or so, always accessorized by stone villages and a narrow winding road as its only entrance. But these are medieval castles, their purpose was to intimidate and protect during an era when all hell could break loose just because your neighbors felt grabby. The fortified stone building on a hill faded out of style with the Renaissance in favor of more ornate airier structures that eventually evolved into confections like Versailles and Buckingham Palace. And just as we look back on their generation with rose colored glasses – authors, poets, artists and architects of the 1800s romanticized the medieval period with chivalry and fairytales. They made it seem like a golden age of good manners, literally painting the likes of battles with no blood, no dirt, and generally no unpleasantness.

It was this state of mind that possessed two Bavarian kings to build medieval style castles in the early and late 1800s. Both made to look as if they belonged to an earlier time, but designed for fantasy instead of defense. Some people refer to them as the Disney castles because Walt Disney modeled Sleeping Beauty’s castle after one of them. To others they are two of the castles of the eccentric“Mad” King Ludwig II. The castle of Hohenschwangau was built by his father and was one of his childhood homes. The grander castle of Neuschwanstein was built by Ludwig, though he died before it was fully finished. Both are within sight of each other in a stunning location at the edge of the alps, less than a two hour drive from Munich and Salzburg.

One look at these castles and you know why we got up early after an exhausting day in Munich, and drove the two hours further south and further away from our airport to see them. Again, I need to rave about the German highway system. We never got lost. Even though there was lots of snow in the higher elevations, the roads were completely clear. No trash, no potholes, no confusing exits, no complaints. If you ever plan a multi-city trip to Germany I highly recommend driving.

The snow that missed Munich the day before unleashed at least six inches on the village and castles of Hohenschwangau, blanketing its angles and edges in white. It was the coldest day we had experienced yet, but the trade-off was worth it. This is what cartoons like Heidi taught us to expect of winter in the Alps, and it delivered.

We parked conveniently, and made a beeline for the ticket office up the hill racing with the tour bus passengers that were just released. We lost. The line was long but fast, and we walked away with tickets to both castles. First was for the smaller and older Hohenschwangau. Our assigned times for both castles were about two and half hours apart. We thought that was reasonable and began our ascent to Hohenschwangau, about a 5-10 minute walk uphill. I should probably mention that if you have any mobility issues, you may want to re-consider this trip. These castles are on steep hills and mountains and the interiors only use stairs. Neither castle has a ramp or elevator. Definitely wear comfortable shoes, because you will walk.

Pictures of the castle’s interior are not allowed. Think suits of armor, pastel murals of fairytales in every room, brightly painted tile stoves, coffered ceilings, medieval motifs, hidden passageways and you’ll get an idea. It felt very Bavarian in its clear bright colors, natural in its wood carvings, and modest in its scale. Fit for a king, but not a mad king.

We descended the hill and detoured to the crystal blue waters of Lake Alpsee. Reflection wouldn’t allow my camera to pick up the craggier mountains behind the green hills, but trust me they were there.

Back at the village we were faced with a dilemma. The walk up to Neuschwanstein castle is a very steep thirty minute trek uphill. The shuttle doesn’t run during the winter months because it’s too dangerous with possible ice. The only other alternative is a large carriage that takes about a dozen people at a time for a reasonable fee. If we were staying the night, we might have opted for the walk, taken pictures along the way, and had a beer at the top. But we had a four hour drive after this that we didn’t want to be exhausted for, and if I’m being honest, we’re lazy and we’d rather not walk a mile up a forty five degree incline. So carriage it was.

Peasant View of Neuschwanstein Castle (from the base).

There comes a point of no return when entering a long line. A point when you’re too committed to reconsider. You’re in this now, invested, you’re going to follow through. That’s how we felt about a half hour into the carriage line. It wasn’t moving fast with only about three carriages on the circuit slowly going up the hill. We were concerned about meeting our assigned ticket time about forty five minutes into it. We nearly panicked when one of the men in front of us turned out to be holding the place for a tour to return from the giftshops. That is, we quietly panicked, several parties behind us became rather passionate about the affront and boldly got in front of not only the tour group, but everyone else that was previously ahead of them, all the time yelling angrily and hand gesturing. (I’m not pointing out their nationality on purpose because it’s not fair to the rest of their countrymen, you can guess though.)

We did make it to the carriage. We didn’t make our ticket time. No worries though, we showed the attendant our ticket and he let us in with another group.

Pictures are not allowed in Neuschwanstein castle either. We were impressed with Hohenschwangau, but we were awed by Neuschwanstein. The entire interior is caked in colorful Neo-gothic and Romanesque murals, carvings, tapestries, paintings, sculptures, and boule work. The style is as unexpected and beautiful as it is over the top. Every window frames a panorama of the mountains, lakes and countryside worthy of Bob Ross. There are also plenty of eccentric details, like turning corridors into fake grottos, and adding very modern touches like all-glass solariums that give away the palace’s actual age. Definitely fit for a mad king.

The tour moves quickly so one really doesn’t have time to take it all in, but still very memorable. We exited through the gift shop where I got my hands on the only book about the palace in English. But before we left, I broke the rules and took one picture from inside the castle.

Worth it.

We took more pictures from a glass floored balcony angled toward the castle. We would have liked to have gotten the iconic picture you see advertised from the bridge across the ravine, but it was closed because of snow and ice. This didn’t stop the hiking boot sector though, they were routinely scaling the fence and making their way down the trail. We didn’t want our final chapter to be “They fell down a cliff attempting to get a better picture, if only they were wearing hiking boots like the others.” So we passed.

After I finished pouting we began our descent back down, stopping at the restaurant near the castle. It was okay, I’ve since heard the food in the village is a lot better. But if you are feeling puckish on your way down from the castle, I highly recommend the warm round dough balls dusted in powder sugar. They have a name with at least eight syllables, that I’ll never recall, but we remember them as round beignets. Because that’s what they taste like.

We wanted to linger in the village but we couldn’t. The time was almost five o’clock and we had a four hour drive ahead of us to Frankfurt-Hahn airport, where we were staying at the only hotel nearby for our mid-day flight. We drove through the nearby Fussen on our way to the highway. If you have time, plan some of it there, the town is adorable and looks like a lot of fun.

Our time was over in Germany. I don’t know when we’ll go back. I’d like to the see northern part someday if we can, and I know we didn’t see as much of Munich as we would have liked. We found the people to be very friendly, the food to be hearty and crowd pleasing, the transportation to be top-notch, and of course the country itself was beautiful. And of course, their exit signs are hilarious to the immature (us).

Our afternoon in Nuremberg canceled, we ended up spending the afternoon enjoying a beautiful drive through the Bavarian countryside on the way to Munich. The wind cleared the sky, the sun and car heater warmed our wind-burned faces. We zipped by dozens of faultless red roofed villages, spikey forests, and surprisingly bright green rolling hills. With the windows up it could easily be mistaken for a spring day. This was all a bonus, we were really just happy we weren’t driving in a blizzard in the dark.

Our new evening plan was to check-into the hotel and hop on the metro to the city center. We’d find a restaurant or a beer hall or both and enjoy ourselves. Always the first to think we’re awesome, we congratulated ourselves on being good travelers and rolling with it.

However, once we got to the hotel, the wind had finally caught up with us. By the time the bags were in our room, wind was pounding the side of the building. This was concerning so we turned on the news. One doesn’t need to know German to understand the meaning on cars blown off the road and all airports shut down. The snow was mostly skipping Munich but the arctic blast outside couldn’t be ignored. So we wimped out, relaxed, and stuck near the hotel for the night, going back to our original plan of spending the whole next day in Munich.

We woke the next morning to about an inch of snow! I love snow that I don’t have to drive in. It didn’t stick around much after noon but it was a nice touch to our wintery trip.

As I stated in the last post, the theme of this trip was Christmas shopping. I thought it couldn’t get much more involved than what we found in Rothenburg, but I was wrong. With no less than five Christmas markets, three story Christmas trees, twenty foot Christmas pyramids, and at least five dozen gluhwein stands. Munich wins.

And these weren’t small markets, they were massive, aisle upon aisle of decked out jingle belled consumerism disguised to look quaint. The crowds that were so famed to be in Rothenburg came to Munich. But in all fairness, Munich is a large and very modern city. It’s crowded because lots of people work and live there, especially in the city center.

The largest market of all was Christkindl in Marianplatz. Most of our Christmas damage happened here.

I’m not the best shopping partner. I’m not capable of impulse purchases. I have to see everything before I can make a decision. My husband is part saint so he dealt with the circling and comparing, by incorporating multiple Gluhwein pit-stops. This is also how we discovered a new way to enjoy carbs, Kaesespaetzle. A thick homemade pasta baked with cheese and carmelized onions, and this case they added curry as well, simple and fatty, but warm and delicious. Perfect for cold weather, not bad for street food, and of course it was followed by more Gluhwein.

We did remind ourselves that we were in Munich by stopping in churches and appreciating the local architecture. Including the dual towered Frauenkirche, one of Munich’s signature skyline pieces.

We while walking through the nativity scene market (two dozen booths dedicated to all things nativity), we noticed people come in and out of what looked like a plain church. We were cold so we stepped in too. It turned out to be St Peter’s Church, and the outside was deceiving.

We even paused and waited for the Glockenspiel to do its thing in Marianplatz. When the clock struck noon we waited, and we waited. Slowly the pieces started to move. And it was entertaining at first, dancing figures spun, knights jousted slowly, it was cute. But the overall feeling was, “okay, we saw that.” Everyone around kind of shrugged and nodded and seemed to feel the same way; underwhelmed.

Glockenspiel

By dark we’d convinced ourselves that it wasn’t Christmas unless we lightened our wallets with a nutcracker and a Christmas pyramid, and an indecent amount of ornaments. Now it was time for our favorite part about Munich, beerhalls.

Coming to Hofbreauhaus is something my husband had been looking forward to the entire trip. I was just looking forward to sitting down after a six hour shopping spree and getting warm. But the atmosphere was infectious, we had a great time. Tables upon tables of strangers sitting family style and enjoying themselves drinking great beer and sampling traditional dishes. We found a spot next to a few other Americans, ordered a few liters of Hofbreauhaus original, grabbed a giant fresh pretzel from the buxom pretzel lady, and struck up some conversation with our neighbors – who taught us German toasting etiquette:

When someone is served beer or proposes a toast, you clink glasses with that person, and all other people within reach, saying “Prost!”, and take a drink. Eye contact is also really important. You must maintain eye contact with your toaster, and all others that you clink with, its considered bad luck if you don’t. So if you’re at a table with a lot people, plan to drink a lot. Note all of this info is second hand so feel free to disagree or tell me how it’s actually done.

The band struck up a traditional tune and we decided to make a meal of it. After much deliberation I was convinced to try something called a pig knuckle. Think the pork version of a turkey leg, with a potato dumpling on the side. It was tasty. We drank more beer, this time I tried the Winterswikel (definitely spelled that wrong) which was darker but not as good as the original from earlier.

Our night was winding down and we went outside to have our last mug of gluhwein and contemplate German maypoles. Every town no matter how small seems to have at least a few. The one in Munich was more ornate than most. The one right outside our hotel was just a blue and white stripped tall pole standing in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t realize until we got here that quite a few of these are permanent and stay up year round. Who knew?

We took our last look at Marianplatz before we sunk down to the metro.

We liked Munich. It was clean, friendly, lively, delicious, cultural, very modern, and again – everyone spoke English. It was also full to the brim with our fellow Christmas tourists, but I think it’s usually like that anyway. I used to think we wanted to visit during Oktoberfest, now I’m not so sure. We were able to find a similar but much more relaxed atmosphere at the beerhalls. I’d like to experience a German beergarten when the weather warms up. Maybe this summer or fall, we’ll see.

When we were packing our stuff for our move, my husband and I agreed on whether most items belonged in the shipping or storage category. Our holiday decorations, however, did not go so smoothly. He was afraid of storage constraints, (a valid fear considering we didn’t know if we’d have enough closet space or not, turns out we would). I didn’t care where we stored it for the other eleven months, I just wanted a little continuity over the holidays, and it was only a few boxes after all. In the end, I caved when he said, “We’ll buy new stuff in Europe when we see how much room we have.” Immediately images of snow-covered Christmas markets and hand-made ornaments sprung to mind. I looked innocently into his eyes and said “Okay, we’ll shop there.” I think he was too high on victory to realize what he had gotten himself into.

And that’s how we ended up in Germany in early December, more specifically, the Christmas markets of Bavaria. We’d like to thank Ryanair, Hertz, and off-season hotel prices for making this trip possible. We flew into Frankfurt-Hahn (which isn’t actually that close to Frankfurt), rented a car and drove to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Munich, and Hohenschwangau. If flying into Frankfurt sounds a little out of the way, for our itinerary, that’s because it was. The cost of flying into Frankfurt on our dates with Ryanair was less than 80 euro, roundtrip, for two people, including tax. Flying into the much more central Munich was roughly eight times more on the same dates. We were willing to sacrifice a few extra hours on the road to save over 400 euro. Thank you, Ryanair.

Never use this as an actual driving map.

This is the first trip where we traveled by car instead of trains and buses, but for the timing of this trip to work out it was essential. We arrived at the airport around 2:30pm. If we had taken the hour and half bus to Frankfurt, ran to the train station, and connected twice more, we would have made it to Rothenburg around 11pm. By driving we made it around 6pm, checked into our hotel relaxed instead of exhausted, and had time to see Rothenburg at night. This is the way to do it. Germany has one of the best rail systems in the world, but the Autobahn is one of the best highway systems in the world – no potholes, no trash to speak of, minimal traffic, and breathtaking views. Not to mention it was so liberating to not be a slave to the timetables.

But enough about logistics. We started with Rothenburg ob der Tauber…

I wasn’t sure what to expect with Rothenburg. Even Rick Steves says it’s one step away from becoming a medieval theme park, but still worth seeing. That wasn’t exactly my impression. Rothenburg is a genuine walled medieval town that was once a center of trade in Europe, perfectly preserved through poverty and misfortune, and revived by the tourist trade in the mid 1800s. Forty percent of the town was destroyed during World War II, but saved by the American Secretary of Defense because he knew it by reputation. Today, all damage has been meticulously restored to the point where it’s nearly impossible to tell which building is eight hundred years old, and which is fifty. Most shops and restaurants are geared toward the tourists, but with quality in mind.

Our one and only below freezing night in Rothenburg began with a twinkling romantic stroll that evolved into a frantic search for a warm restaurant. We ended up at a cozy dimly lit, powder blue restaurant whose name has more syllables than I could ever remember. This is where we kicked off our tour of hearty German cuisine. Think potato dumplings, bratwurst, sauerkraut, schnitzel, and you’ll have an idea. The food was good, and the calories were essential, especially when considering that this evening in the upper 20s was the warmest of the trip.

Afterwards we recommenced down the street and followed the glow and voices to an animated outdoor bar on a small square outside St. Jakobs church. Well insulated travelers from all over the world and locals alike congregated around fire pits and Christmas trees, laughing and sipping from steaming mugs with a large silver screen of old Christmas films reeling in the background. It’s name was Kuchenmeister, and it was my fantasy Christmas bar come to life.

Kuchenmeister is also a hotel and restaurant, both looked very nice and the location is ideal. We didn’t stay here so I can’t say I’d recommend it, but if we ever come back I may make a reservation just for proximity. Hot libations were another recurring theme on this trip, on this occasion we drank the house specialty, which seemed to be the German version of a hot toddy – another eight syllable name that I will never be able to recall. (Note: At first most street food and drinks in Germany seem rather expensive, but they’ve built in the price of the mug or plate you were given with your purchase. You may think “ugh, six euros for mulled wine, no thank you.” But when you turn your mug back in you get three euros back. So it’s not as bad as it looks.) We decided we loved Germany, power sipped our toddies, turned in our mugs, and walked one block over for the beginning of the Nightwatchman’s Tour.

Don’t judge me. I know the cool kids go to Germany to seek out ancient breweries, dine in secluded foodie chalets, and tour Bauhaus masterpieces… but I’ve wanted to go on the Nightwatchman’s tour of Rothenburg since I first saw it on PBS in the nineties. For seven euro each, we had an entertaining, tongue-in-cheek, hour long tour from a very entertaining guide that took us through Rothenburg at night. And in this city that seems to be the model for all gingerbread villages, minus the gumdrop trim and candy cane lanes, we were not disappointed.

Frozen, we made our way back to my new favorite bar. This time we drank some really outstanding local beer and had a surprisingly deep and enlightening conversation with a pair of Germans working in the local economy. Most Germans speak perfect fluent English, which was very convenient in most cases, but at the same time very humbling considered we didn’t bother to learn much beyond basic greetings like “Guttentag”. Around eleven, we were ready to feel our noses again, so we called it a night and headed back to the hotel.

The next morning we had breakfast with fresh rolls, homemade cherry preserves, smoked ham, cheese, fruit, etc. It was the best hotel breakfast we’ve had in a while. We checked out, placed our luggage back in the car and walked back to the city center with a singular purpose in mind – to conquer the Christmas Markets.

At first the market didn’t seem that big, maybe twenty booths in the main square. Then we realized it went done several other streets, along alleyways, into hidden courtyards, and back out into other squares. And it wasn’t just outside, the Christmas empire Kathe Wohlfahrt has made Rothenburg their flagship, and their shops line the same market streets as well. (Beware, only a few of the stores are called Kathe Wohlfahrt, others have different names, but they are the same store.) We stood in the center and momentarily let ourselves be intimidated by the variety of ornaments, Christmas pyramids, nutcrackers, incense smokers, advent calendars, Russian dolls, music boxes, nativity scenes, lace, cookie cutters, and general Christmas cheer. Foolishly we thought we’d get our bearings inside one of the stores, which happened to be the main Kathe Wohlfahrt store.

I don’t have any pictures of the store because pictures are strictly not allowed. This is the mother of all Christmas shops. Once you enter there is no turning around. A one-way lane winds you throughout multiple stories of what looks like a normal building from the outside, but inside is a heavily curated Christmas explosion. No surface is untouched, especially the ceiling. Longing for the comparable simplicity of the outdoor market, I numbly picked up a shopping basket, and placed the first ornament into the basket. The rest is a blur of tinsel and pine. We arrived at the register with what seemed like a modest few purchases, but added up to small fortune.

Confused, we stepped outside wondering how that had happened and not sure how much time had passed. It had only been an hour, it felt like longer. We wandered over to a stand selling our new favorite street foods: Fire-grilled bratwurst on a bun, with steaming gluhwein (mulled wine).

We walked the streets and got to know Rothenburg a little better, and made a few more purchases now feeling fully educated by our time in the Christmas time warp. We came across one of our friends from the night before. He asked if we had heard of the big storm that’s coming. No, we hadn’t. At that time a strong wind and snow storm was pounding northern Germany and was well on its way to the south. This was bad news for our itinerary. We planned to go to nearby Nuremberg for the afternoon and early evening, and then drive down to Munich. Now it looked like we had to out-drive the storm. Too bad, we would have liked to have seen it, maybe another time.

We took our last look around Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

From its reputation, I was expecting to be tangled in pushy crowds, served off the tourist menu, and swindled by local merchants. Maybe stuff like that happens in July, but for us none of that stuff happened. The sidewalks had enough room for everyone, we were definitely getting the same German menu everyone got, we found the prices to be less than what we experienced Munich, and the locals to be extremely friendly. Package all that in Rothenburg’s half-timber glory and I’d say we had a charming stay, I recommend it.